Control
by Crysania
Summary: Tumblr prompt: Belle takes charge of the situation because she's needs to feel in control of the situation. So she decides to surprise Rumple and makes him understand she needs him to trust her and be passive under her. [Part 9 of the Catatonic!Belle series]


It has been some three months since the curse was broken and Belle awakened. Three months of living in Rumplestiltskin's home, just as she once lived with him in the Dark Castle. But here things are different. She sleeps in the same bed as him, burrowing into the covers and stealing them back from him when he rolls over and she finds herself uncovered in the middle of the night. She curls up close to him, sometimes awakens with his arm draped over her, feels the tickle of his breath at the nape of her neck.

They can kiss here, kisses that are deeper, longer, kisses that are simply _more_ than the one chaste kiss they shared in their own land. His curse cannot break here. He is human and yet still possesses magic. She's not sure how all this works, how the curse had such a hold on him in the Enchanted Forest, altering skin and eyes and hair, altering even his voice, and yet a simple kiss could end it all. But here, in this magicless world that he has brought magic to, he is as he once was, human with a damaged ankle and a need for a cane to make walking easier. But their kisses do not remove the curse, do not take the magic away.

She's not sure if she's relieved or unhappy at that. She has no doubt that Rumplestiltskin without his magic would be someone completely different and while she loves him unconditionally, it would be hard to imagine him as so radically changed.

It's been hard, in some ways, to see him as completely human. She recognizes him only from the memories the curse has given her and the shape of his face and his large eyes. She recognizes him from the way his face softens when he sees her. He looks almost nothing like she remembers him in their world, no golden-sheened skin, no reptilian eyes, no claws.

Everything seems wonderful for them at the moment…except for one small detail. They have done nothing more than kiss since the curse broke. She loves kissing him, loves feeling his lips soft against hers, insistent at times, loves the way his tongue slips into her mouth and the way he occasionally leaves her mouth to trail kisses down her neck.

But he leaves it at that.

He leaves her wanting.

And though Belle is still a maiden, her memories from the curse tell her otherwise. She remembers making love to him, remembers the feel of his hands on her body, remembers how it felt to have him inside her. She doesn't quite know how to reconcile that sometimes. The memories that aren't real, the memories that are. She gets lost sometimes between them, living half in one world and half in the other. The Prince says they are both and yet how can she be both when she her body has not really experienced those memories that make her burn with desire.

She wants to experience them.

She wants to lose control.

And yet she wants to retain that control at the same time.

She's not sure how to reconcile those either. We are both…and nothing. All at the same time. She needs to feel the man who is her husband in this world. She needs to experience the joy and ecstasy, the embarrassed fumblings of memories that are only hazy at this point.

They're in bed that night, curled up as they so often are. Rumplestiltskin is tight up against her, arm around her waist. She loves that feeling, protected and loved at the same time. He's somehow managed to keep her close while not smothering her entirely. He lets her have her life, showed her to the library and told her it was hers if she wished to open it and work at it. She did and so she's been working there. They meet for lunch. He drives her home. It's like they're married and yet not married, which is exactly what they _are_ now that she thinks about it.

She doesn't like feeling like this.

She wants their relationship to be _real_ and right now it only feels half real.

"Rumplestiltskin?" she finally manages to say. She doesn't know where to go from there. She'll have to feel her way through it by instinct.

For a moment he doesn't respond, but she feels the arm that's around her tighten slightly. "Yes sweetheart?" His breath fans her hair out a bit and sends a shiver down her spine. "Are you cold?"

She laughs. He's misunderstood her body language. She remembers that he has always had trouble believing she could find him attractive, that she could love him. Their true story is twisted up in curses and Evil Queens, but their curse memories show him as hesitant to accept her affection, not quite being sure it was real. She had to do a lot to prove it to him and though the memories are somewhat awkward, Belle finds them fun to think about. She had been obvious. He had been obtuse. And the realizing of those emotions and their trueness had been half the fun of their early relationship. It wasn't quite so different as their time in the Enchanted Forest, really.

"No love, I'm not cold."

"Then?"

She loves the sound of his voice, the low rumble of it. Sometimes she misses the showman, but she knows this is Rumplestiltskin without the show. She had caught glimpses of this version in the Dark Castle. Only here, only now, when he will finally admit that he loves her, does she see this version all the time.

"I just…" She doesn't know how to say it, so she blurts it out. "Why haven't you done more than kiss me?"

"Ah," he responds with.

"Ah?"

"I…I didn't think you'd want to," he finally manages to say. This is nothing new. She remembers how he used to flit away from her if she got too close, the way they nearly chased each other around the table. She didn't know how to flirt. He didn't know how to accept that someone would flirt with him. She looks back on that time now and wonders just what the hell they were doing.

They've come so far and yet not at the same time. They don't discuss their curse memories, sometimes acting as if those simply didn't exist. When people call him "Gold" he gets grumpy. The time she accidentally called him that he snapped at her. He wants to forget the curse memories and yet Belle wants to remember them.

Or more than that, really.

"What if I want to?" she says and she can hear him suck in a quick breath.

"You…"

"I do." She finally turns in his arms and suddenly she's facing him, lips scant inches from his. She searches his eyes, sees the slight furrow in his brow. His hand comes to rest on her hip, gripping just a little harder than she expects. He's nervous, she suddenly realizes. He has memories of their nights together but knows they're not real.

It's the same for her.

Their last _real_ memories together from before the curse broke were his kicking her out of the Dark Castle.

And then suddenly they awakened with memories of marriage, of making love, of fights that separated them in this world just as they were separated in their real world.

It's confusing.

And Belle wants to merge those memories.

"Belle?" He sounds hesitant and she manages to glance up at him for just a moment before burying her face his chest.

"Yes. I want to." He starts to shift, to turn her so she's on her back and she reaches up without thinking, puts her hands on his shoulders. "Wait."

"I'm sorry," he says quickly and she can hear the slight tremor to his voice. She can't ever remember hearing that. He had been all manic giggles and spastic hand movements. Hearing his voice soft, hearing it nervous, that's something she never thought she would hear.

"No," she whispers. She doesn't even know what she's saying, what she's doing really. "There's no sorry. Not with me." He was never sorry, not in her memories. He had been aloof in the beginning, hesitant later. But he had never ever been sorry. She wonders if he was sorry about her accident, well, fake accident at any rate, if his memories gave him that much at least.

Hers didn't give her much. An argument, anger, then nothing.

"I…" he starts to say but she cuts him off by moving suddenly, pushing him back by the shoulders, rolling him so he's underneath her. She straddles his lap and when he tries to sit up, tries to speak, she puts her hands on his chest.

"I need this," she says and she realizes just how true that is. It's not that she _only_ needs him, needs him to touch her and to be touched, needs him inside her. She aches for that, certainly, memories that are not quite memories making her feel alive with longing. But she also needs this control. She needs to feel like she is taking her fate into her own hands. She hasn't for a long time, each moment of her life since the Queen captured her belonging to someone else.

He moves his hands up and she stops him. "I need _this_," she says again, emphatically.

She's sure he doesn't know what she means but he nods and his hands fall limply to his sides. His eyes are dark though, focused, the pupils dilated. He's confused, curious, but she knows he wants whatever this is as much as she does.

And she still doesn't know what this is exactly.

She places her hands on either side of him and leans down to kiss him. His hands briefly come up to touch her hips before he moves them back to his sides. He seems to know, almost instinctively, what even Belle cannot figure out. He seems to understand. She doesn't know how he does it, but it's there. A sort of connection, an understanding.

The kiss deepens and he allows her to explore his mouth with her tongue. It's strange, really. They kissed once, so very long ago, in their own world. Chaste, sweet, mouths closed and kiss over almost before it started. But she remembers kissing him like this in their cursed little world and while the feel of his tongue against hers, the feel of his soft lips, the wetness and the heat were a little odd at first, it has become lovely and pleasant.

When she stops the kiss to lean down and touch her lips to the crook of his neck, he groans. She remembers that he likes that, hazy memories of his grabbing her, turning her, losing himself in his passionate response.

She likes the memories of his coming undone.

She reaches with her hands to the top button on his shirt and for a moment his hand comes up and touches hers. "Belle."

"I'm sure," she responds with and his hand falls away from hers. He allows her to undo the buttons, one small one at a time, revealing bits of his skin as she goes. He's darker than her and she likes the contrast of her pale skin against his, though she can't help thinking about how her skin would look against the golden scales he once wore.

Leaning down she presses kisses across his bare chest, taking her time to enjoy him. He's lean, narrow, perhaps a bit too thin which she has always suspected (and has always known, her memories tell her). But he feels good beneath her lips and tongue and teeth. When she bites him, she remembers suddenly that he _likes_ that. A lot. He lets out a soft moan, a little sigh that goes straight to her center. She feels that familiar unfamiliar feeling of heat pooling deep inside her, that fluttery feeling of _need_ and _want_. She knows that feeling now and yet doesn't.

She likes it.

No, she loves it.

As she slides down his body, hands and mouth working in concert, she feels powerful. He writhes beneath her, clearly wants to take control back from her. It's in his nature after all, to be the one in control. It must take everything that's within him to relinquish it to her, to let her explore at her leisure.

When one hand experimentally cups him he says her name on a groan. Belle laughs. "You like that?"

"Perhaps a bit _too_ much," he says through gritted teeth.

She bites her lip, smiles. She feels shy and yet fearless. He won't let her fall. He won't let anything bad happen to her. In both worlds he has been her protector. He still is, even if she's the one in control for now.

She hooks her finger under the elastic at the waistband of his pajamas, teasing the skin there. Looking up at him she hesitates for a moment and he nods, just a tiny movement of his head. He'll let her go on. More firmly she grasps the edges of his pajamas and starts to tug them down. "Belle." His voice cracks slightly on the one syllable of her name.

"Yes," she says, the answer to his unspoken question.

He lifts his hips slightly and she can feel the tremor to his body as she slides them down and off, tossing them on the floor as she does so. He's bare before her then and for a moment she feels embarrassment, shame, but then she reaches up and closes her hand around him and the way he jerks and the slight hiss that escapes him leaves her smiling.

She remembers the first time she touched him there. Well, not the first time, but the first time her memories touched him. He had given her the same hiss, the same jerking and she wonders how the Evil Queen's curse could know such things about him. Or that Belle was the type to fret, ask him in worried tones if she had hurt him.

This time she doesn't ask. This time she knows what that sound is. It's familiar even though she knows she's never felt the velvety smoothness of him, never run her fingers across the girth of him, never marveled at how he feels in the palm of her hand.

He stills beneath her ministrations and she glances up at him. His face looks pained, but she knows it's that strange sort of pleasure-pain that she has experienced in her memories. She wants it in real life.

She wants it now.

Sliding back up and over him, she takes him in hand and guides him to her entrance. His hands immediately come up to her hips and grip them. "Belle…wait…"

"Rumple." His name comes out harsher than she intends. She wants this control, _needs_ it. She knows he doesn't like being the more submissive one. Rumplestiltskin tends to dominate conversations, tends to take over the room when he's present. He's small, but his presence is a powerful one. The magic causes the very air around him to crackle with power. He is not a man who is _ever_ out of control.

Except with her.

"Belle," he says again and she realizes there's worry in his eyes. "This is your first time."

She stills for a moment, hand still grasping him. Her eyes widen. "Will it hurt?" She's heard stories of course, but her memories don't include pain. They include awkwardness in that first time, knocked heads and elbows hitting wrong places. But she doesn't remember pain.

"Let me make sure it won't?"

He's asking for permission, she realizes. He knows she needs to feel like she's taking control of her life, but wants to make sure she's sure of it, sure she's doing the right thing, sure that if she truly wants this that her body is ready for it. Finally she nods.

"Good," he whispers. He touches her hand and she releases him to place both hands on the bed at his side. "Stay just like that." His voice is still soft and so she nods again. He moves beneath her, sliding down until his face his lined up with her.

"What?" she starts to say but then suddenly his mouth is on her…_on her_. His tongue has come out to lick at her and it's like nothing she's ever felt. Soft, hot, wet. She makes a soft mewling noise in the back of her throat and feels his breath across her as he lets out a soft huff of laughter. She should be embarrassed, she realizes, yet she isn't. His tongue lapping at her, his soft lips sucking at her, it's all so _strange_ and yet it feels so right at the same time.

He's done this before. In her memories. She remembers it almost as if it happened to someone else, as if it had been the heroine in a book she had read. Though she doesn't ever remember reading books that contained _this_. She didn't even know _this_ was a possibility.

His lips suddenly suck her in, tongue soft and warm against her clit and suddenly it's all too much. There are sparks behind her eyes as her body tightens and all the pleasure built up in that moment explodes. She lets out a moan, louder than she could have imagined, as her body shakes. He continues to suckle at her until it's simply too much, pleasure turning into a sharp sort of pain. She's almost limp, ready to collapse. His mouth finally leaves her and he slides back up.

"Now you're ready," he murmurs and she gives him a smile, bright, happy. Leaning down she kisses him and she can taste herself on him. It's strange to taste herself, yet not entirely unpleasant.

"Now?" she whispers. She wants him to make her _his_ in every way. She wants reality, not memories. And so when he nods, she reaches down and aligns him properly with herself.

"You're absolutely sure?" She reaches up a hand and smooths back his hair. "We can stop if you don't want to…"

Her answer is to slide herself onto him. She doesn't do it in one quick move. She's still afraid of the pain, still worried that the first time really will hurt. The thick head of his shaft penetrates her and it's not painful, but slightly odd instead. She feels full in a way she's never felt before, stretched, maybe a little uncomfortable at the intrusion. But it's not an unpleasant feeling.

He lets out a small groan and she knows this must be near-torture for him. Rumplestiltskin is not always a patient man, but for _her_ he will be patient. The gesture is appreciated more than he could know. She moves further onto him, letting him fill her up slowly, getting used to the stretched feeling. And then with one final movement, she's sheathed him completely inside her, his body flush with hers.

He throws back his head and his hands grip convulsively at her hips. "Oh Belle," he whispers and she finds she likes the way he says her name, here in the throes of passion, here when they're connected in such an intimate way.

She stays still for a moment, just getting used to the feel of him inside her. And then she lifts herself up and moves back down. She knows this is what they need, but it's an experiment for her. There's no pain. She's thankful he was right about that. No pain, but just a delicious sharp sort of pleasure.

She moves again and he uses his hands on her hips to help her, to steady her. As they pick up pace, she realizes he's lifting his hips to meet her downward thrusts, moving with her to create more friction. The press of him inside her, against her, starts her building toward that moment of release again.

Her body feels tight, flushed. She cannot help the small noises that escape her and lets out a louder moan when his hand comes up and his thumb finds that sensitive place again. He moves it in concert with their thrusts, encircling it, and suddenly it's all simply _too much_. The feeling of him moving inside her and this thumb rubbing across the slick wetness at her clit. Just _too much_. She tumbles over the edge as the waves of pleasure wash over her.

His hand moves away from her and he reaches up with both hands to grasp her hips. He has a few more erratic thrusts before he's pulling her tight against him and she feels the warmth of his release within her. He finishes with a groan and then wraps his arms around her, pulls her limp body down onto him, as he softens within her.

"Belle." It seems he cannot get out much more than her name and she pushes slightly away from him to see the tears in his eyes.

She brushes at the tear near the corner of his eye. "Rumple?"

"That was…"

"Not how I remember it at all," Belle finishes for him and is relieved to see a small smile on his face.

"No?"

She crawls off him to curl up at his side and he pulls the sheet up over them. They'll need it as their bodies cool. "No," she finally says. "It was much better."

He wraps an arm around her, holding her tightly to him. "Was it now?" She likes the teasing note to his voice.

"It was _real_." He places a soft kiss on the top of her head. Nothing else needs to be said in that moment. It was real. _This_ was real, whatever they had. And she has taken back some of the memories, recreated them, made them their reality instead of the false memories of the curse. She finally feels in control of her own life, deciding her own fate instead of having it decided for her.


End file.
